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you?”
    After being in heels all day, her feet were beginning to hurt, but she resisted the urge to sit down. She didn’t want to appear tired or weak. She worked in a prison, had to prove herself every single day. “And why is that, sir?”
    “You heard Wallace. He presented his plan as if we had some input, but we didn’t. The decision was made before he ever asked us to meet him here. Even the governor is set on it.”
    Securing the flap of Wallace’s manila envelope, she bit back the accusation that he could’ve tried harder to refuse. “So…what do you suggest we do?”
    “We go along with the damn investigation, as agreed. But there’s no need for two of us to spearhead this thing. I’ve given it my blessing. Now I want you to run with it.”
    Apprehension clawed at Peyton’s stomach. Why would he turn such a sensitive investigation over to her? “Would you mind clarifying that, sir?”
    “I’ve got more than I can handle on my plate already. You’ll take over from here.”
    Irritated by a strand of hair that’d fallen from the knot at her nape, she tucked it behind her ear. “Which means…what, exactly? I’ll be the liaison?”
    “That’s right. You’ll meet with Bennett whenever it’s safe to do so, and you’ll relay his progress to Wallace. This is your baby. All of it.” But she was the one who had a problem with the operation. And she’d just strained her relationship with Wallace, to say nothing of alienating Bennett. Why would—?
    And then it dawned on her. Warden Fischer was purposely distancing himself. He was as nervous about this investigation as she was and didn’t want to be anywhere nearby if it blew up in their faces.
    Now she understood why he’d invited her to attend such a clandestine meeting, even though she was far from the patsy Joseph Perry was. She was his “fall guy.” He could pacify the Department of Corrections by acquiescing to their wishes, and sidestep the blame if it all went to hell.
    “Do I have any choice?” she asked.
    He smoothed down his sparse white hair. “Not unless you’d prefer to tender your resignation.”
    Peyton drew a steadying breath. As tempting as that sounded at the moment, she’d invested sixteen years in her career. She wasn’t about to throw it all away without a fight. Especially when there was a chance, albeit a small one, that Bennett could come through and make them both heroes.
    She imagined the pale blue eyes of the man who’d sat across the conference table from her. She wasn’t sure she’d ever seen irises that exact shade of blue, certainly none that so closely resembled shards of ice…. “No, sir.”
    Fischer smiled. “Glad to hear it. Good luck to you and Bennett,” he said, and left her standing in the conference room.
    Dropping her head in her hands, Peyton cursed Fischer and his reluctance to take responsibility for what had just happened.
    Was Bennett as good as Wallace thought?
    She hoped so—because if he went down, so did she.

2
    W allace had provided a one-page background sketch on Simeon Bennett, nothing more. Peyton understood the need for secrecy, the danger of putting too much in writing, but this supposed “bio” revealed nothing they hadn’t been told. It was a formality, a pretense, and that made her uncomfortable. She spent five days a week with some of the most cunning liars, thieves and murderers in California. She knew when she was being played, and that was what the meeting at the library had felt like.
    What was the CDCR trying to pull? She’d never dreamed she’d have to worry about the people on her side of the law, especially those in the chain of command above her.
    A soft knock sounded at her office door.
    Peyton slid the sheet of paper she’d been reading back into the envelope, then stuck it under some files on her desk. “Come in.”
    Shelley, her administrative assistant, poked her curly brown head into the room. “I’m heading home. Is there anything you’d like me to